


He Zombie

by TwistedTale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, End of the World, F/M, Is it necrophilia if the body is dead but the mind is alive?, Necromancer Harry Potter, Or Is It?, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedTale/pseuds/TwistedTale
Summary: After getting captured during a raid for potions supplies, Hermione comes face to face with a thinking undead and her world is turned on its head.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Nurmengard War Room 1944_**                             

 

Gelert looked up from his map at the sound of a tentative knock. With a flick of his fingers the door instantly became transparent. He sighed at the sight of his youngest General; he was not more than a boy at age twenty five, and with his fair blond hair and sharp grey/blue eyes he was passably handsome. _He makes a good Natzi at least_ the older man thought with a chuckle and with another flick of his fingers the door swung open. Gelert allowed himself a small smile at the alarmed look on the boy’s face.

 

“Come in, General Ulrich.”

 

The young blond instantly snapped into a salute. “Heil, Grindelwald!”

 

The Dark Lord rolled his eyes and waved the boy over. “Relax Ulrich, it is only the two of us. There is no need for the formality.”

 

Ulrich gave an uncomfortable nod and it seemed to take everything the young man had to relax from his stiff military posture. “As you say, sir.”

 

“I do indeed, now tell me what brings you here at such a late hour.”

 

The General’s mouth twisted into an uncomfortable frown and if the youngster been a lesser man, Gelert was sure he would be fidgeting.

 

“Sir, it’s about the Necromancer.”

 

Gelert sighed and rubbed at his greying temples. “What did she do this time?”

 

“She has been doing things with the bodies that is making my men uncomfortable.”

 

“She _is_ a Necromancer, General.”

 

“I know sir, but this is different.” Now the boy _did_ fidget and Gelert’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Speak up boy, what is Eva doing?”

 

“She is bringing them back, sir, the Jews.”

****

The Dark Lord rubbed at his temples. “That is rather the point Ulrich, she was commissioned to build me an army of inferi. Why else would we have had that muggle build the death camps for her?”

 

“I know, but she is bringing them _back._ They remember who they are, and the more they… feed the more they remember. A few have even been turning on us, despite the protective spells in place.”

 

Gelert frowned deeply and stroked his goatee. Eva tended to experiment when he left to her own devices, and this sounded like something she would play with. Although he admired the witch for her intellect and drive, he could not let her do as she pleased, not when so much was at stake.

 

 _I wouldn’t have to rely so heavily on her if I had the Resurrection stone._ He thought and flexed his fingers. _Once Dumbledore is disposed of, I will continue my search._ A sudden surge of grief startled him and he furiously reinforced his occlumency shields, there was no room for sentiment, not now.

 

“Sir?”

 

Gelert blinked. “Eva, yes, I will take care of her. Was there anything else you wished to report?”

 

“No sir.”

 

“Then you are dismissed.”

 

The boy saluted him again, looking greatly relieved, and backed out of the room. The instant the door closed Gelert allowed himself to slump over the large war map that took over the center of the room, he was in no mood to deal with Eva. _But deal with her I must._  He thought with another sigh. _Perhaps it will not take up too much of my night._

 

\--

**_Hogsmeade Current Day_ **

****

Hermione froze over the jar of dried sage. “Did you hear that?”

 

Harry gave a grim frown and carefully set aside the large sack he carried, stuffed to the brim with potions ingredients, and drew his wand. “Yeah, I think it was coming from downstairs.”

 

Ron grimaced and pulled out his own wand, his entire body tense  “They wouldn’t come this close to Hogwarts would they?”

 

“They have been getting bolder but I don’t think they-”  Harry stopped, winced, and rubbed at the jagged scar on his forehead. “Shit.”

 

Hermione was instantly by his side. “Your scar?”

 

“Yes, they are here.”

 

“Damn things, why couldn’t they have just waited another hour!” Ron hissed and looked ready to throw the jar of eyeballs he had been holding. “We don’t have everything we need yet!”

 

“We can’t afford to stay Ron,” Hermione said as soothingly as she could, keeping one eye on her friend and another on the door. “We can try again tomorrow.”

 

Ron clenched his teeth and Hermione winced at the loud grinding sound. “We need the unicorn velvet still, we can’t leave without it. _I_ _won’t_ leave without it. Ginny and Fred can’t afford to wait any longer. You know that they will not let us back out of the castle to try again with activity so close to the students. Hogwarts will go on instant lockdown the second we come back.”

 

Hermione grimaced. “Ron, you know I love them as much as you do but we need to-”

 

“No.” The boy snapped. “I am not leaving until I have it, you lot can go back without me.”

 

Hermione and Harry traded a look before turning their attention back to their friend.

 

“You know I’m not going to abandon you mate.” Harry said tiredly and scratched at his scar again. It looked puffy and painful. Being so close to any horde activity always took its toll on the teen.

 

“And I can’t leave you two alone without at least one of you getting into trouble.” Hermione added and tried to ignore the terror creeping up from her chest to strangle her. “Do not even start with me Ronald Bilius Weasley.” She snapped as soon as he opened his mouth to protest. “I know what you are going to say and you can stuff it.”

 

Ron gaped at her and Harry’s smile became a genuine one. “Well I suppose that is-”

 

The door to the basement rattled.

 

All at once they clustered together, back to back, wands at the ready.

 

“How many Harry?” Ron asked tensely.

 

“I can’t tell,” Harry growled, frustrated. “I know they are there but something is blocking me from finding anything else… HERMIONE TO YOUR LEFT!”

 

Hermione instantly turned and cast. The cutting curse flew in an elegant arc to smash into the window, and the creature trying to crawl into it. Satisfaction welled up at the sight of the monster’s yellow blood staining the wood of the window frame. She did not have time to bask in her victory as the front door blew open.

 

“Ron-!”

 

“I see it!”

 

She heard Ron cast and the furious snarl of the undead beast, but she didn’t dare turn to look as another one of the humanoid creatures started to pull itself through the wreckage of the window. There was a brief moment of horror as she recognised the features of the thing coming at her, the blond hair and silvery eyes were a dead give away.

 

“Sorry Draco.” She muttered and raised her wand.

 

The Draco thing howled something in return at her and pulled his body over the ragged blades of glass that were left in the window pane. She cast another cutting curse, and tried to push her bile back down as the thing that had once been her classmate shrieked in apparent pain as its shoulder tore open.

 

 _Psychosomatic reaction._ She thought as she felt her jaw clench. _It is just a bag of flesh with a person’s face._

She didn’t have time to think about it, another one was crawling through the window and Draco had recovered from his shoulder wound. The blonde started to shuffle toward her. Hermione’s next spell hit the former Malfoy in the legs, severing them cleanly. She ignored the kreen of pain from the once teen and started in on the stranger that started to clamor through the window.

 

“We have to get moving,” she heard Harry hiss behind her.

 

“What about the- _getawayyousonofabitch-_ bag of ingredients?” Ron asked in between casting.

 

“Shrink it.” Hermione growled as she severed the stranger’s head cleanly from its shoulders. The thing’s muddy brown eyes dimmed and she knew it was finally, truly, dead. “It won’t hurt anything in the bag.”

 

“Right.”

 

Luckily the bag of ingredients was safe inside their self made circle, and it only took Harry (she assumed it was Harry at least, she didn’t dare look away from the window) seconds to shrink and pocket it.

 

“We have it, Hermione do you know where the velvet is?”

 

Two more of the things were trying to crawl into the window but a single blasting charm took care of them. _Thank Merlin the apothecary only has one window._

 

“According to the inventory list, it is in the storeroom behind the counter.”

 

She felt Ron’s shoulder brush hers.

 

“Let’s go then!”

 

“We need to secure the exits first. I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy getting bitten while my back is turned.” 

 

“I have the window.” Hermione called as she banished  shelves into the window, effectively blocking it. It was crude, but effective. She tried not to grimace at the sound of blunt nails scratching on the barricading wood.

 

“Basement is sealed off, don’t know how the bloody things got in there.” Ron grumbled.

 

“The front door is blocked. It’s secure for now.” Harry called.

 

Hermione allowed herself to relax for a brief moment before tensing at the low moan that came from the legless Malfoy corpse. She had assumed he would have bled out by now. The pitiful thing was huddled in a corner, groping at its severed left leg.

 

“Oh sweet Merlin, is that Draco Malfoy?” Hermione peered over her shoulder at Harry. The boy was staring at the blonde in a combination of pity and horror.

 

“I think so.”

 

“Why isn’t it dead?”

 

The coldness in Ron’s voice made her duck her head to avoid his gaze. “I thought it was.”

 

“You can’t make mistakes like that Hermione. That thing could kill us all!”

 

She whipped around to glare at the ginger. “What is he going to do Ron, _walk_ over here and bite me?”

 

He recoiled at her venom before an angry flush crept up his neck. “They aren't _people_ anymore, just because you know who they used to be doesn’t mean you can spare them!”

 

“Guys we don’t have time for this, just take care of it now.” Harry snapped as the shelves he had used to barricade the front door wobbled.

 

Ron looked away from her. “I will take care of it, you go get the velvet.”

 

“Ron…”

 

He ignored her and stalked over to Draco, Hermione looked away as the creature started to shriek in agony. She jolted at the feel of a gentle touch on her elbow.

 

“Come on Hermione, lets go get the velvet.”

 

She tiredly nodded and followed close behind Harry.

 

The door to the back store room didn’t look like much of a challenge at first glance, but as soon as Harry tried to touch the knob  he hissed in pain.

 

“It’s warded.” He said incredulously. “How the hell has a simple security ward lasted all these years?”

 

Hermione frowned and examined the door. They had raided more than one shop in the past and the worst ward they had come across had been in the Hog’s Head. _Even then it was so weak we just ignored it._ She thought as she gently pressed her fingers against the metal door knob.

 

The metal flared to life, vibrating with power.

 

“This has to be recent.” She muttered with a frown. “Who would put a fresh ward in an abandoned shop?”

 

“Can you break it down Hermione?”

 

“I can try, but it will take time.”

 

“How long?”

 

Hermione lifted her wand and tried a basic reversal charm. It slipped off of the ward like water off of a duck’s back.

 

“A while.”

 

Harry cursed.

 

“Those barricades will not last long, we have five, maybe ten minutes before they break through.”

 

“I will do the best I can, but this ward looks tricky. Not to mention whoever warded it might have already taken the velvet, it's a valuable ingredient.”

 

“So even if we manage to break through, this might have all been for nothing?” Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and something dark flashed in his eyes. “ _Fuck_.”

 

“We managed to get everything else, and we can send more teams into the Forbidden Forest to find the velvet. They should start shedding it soon.”

 

“Not soon enough, Ron is right, they will lock down Hogwarts as soon as we get back. No one will be able to leave for at least a month.” Harry shut his eyes tightly and slammed his fist against the wooden wall. “Ginny doesn’t have time to wait that long, this was her last chance. They are going to be put down in five days, Hermione. That’s not even a _week_.” Grief radiated from his every pore.

An image of the two Weasley siblings flashed across her mind’s eye. Ginny, normally so vibrant and full of life, lying in the quarantine ward, growing more and more gaunt. Her smile growing smaller with each passing day. Fred with his sparkling eyes and sly smiles, able to do nothing but groan and scream through the night, in his fevered state he couldn’t even recognize his own twin anymore.

 

“Then I will try to break the ward, but I need you to promise me something.”

 

“You know I would do anything for you, Hermione.”

 

She smiled gently at her surrogate brother. “If they break through, I want you to grab Ron and use the emergency portkey. He isn’t going to leave willingly no matter what happens.”

 

He opened his eyes and peered at her. “With you behind us?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry you know better than to ask me that.”

 

He relaxed slightly. “Yeah, I keep forgetting we only have two thickheads in the group.”

 

“Oh Harry you’re not thick, just misguided sometimes. Ron on the other hand….”

 

He gave her a silly smirk and she smiled warmly back.

 

“Guys? What’s taking so long?” Ron called from the front.

 

Being reminded of the task at hand sobered the amusement between the two and Hermione turned her attention back to the door.

 

“I will work as fast as I can, in the meantime you and Ron can keep the barricades reinforced. That should buy us some extra time.”

 

“Will you be ok alone?”

 

“I will be fine.”

 

Harry gave her one last, long, look before making his way back to Ron. Hermione took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. Trying to dismantle the ward would take all of her focus.  _At least Draco isn’t screaming anymore._ She peaked over her shoulder to see Draco’s body parts neatly piled in the corner of the shop.

 

She shook her head and tried to put Draco out of her mind as she turned back to the door, _There was no saving him, I should have disposed of him myself the instant I saw him. I can’t afford to feel guilty. I REFUSE to feel guilty._ With new resolve, Hermione began to cast. Soon she was lost in a fury of spells.

 

It was like trying to unravel a knot in a ball of yarn, only this ball of yarn had a mind of its own and was rather determined to stay tangled.

 

 _Whoever made this spell was brilliant._  She thought through gritted teeth. There was no time to breathe, hardly any time to think, and unless she was precise all of her progress was instantly lost. Soon her thoughts were solely consumed with casting as the magic grew increasingly aggressive as she tried to disable it.  _You will not beat me!_ She thought as she furiously untangled a spell knot.

 

“Hermione, the barriers are falling!”

 

Harry’s shout distracted her and to her horror the barrier became even _more_ tangled in the few seconds she looked away. _This is ridiculous!_ Hermione went on the attack, not just untangling the magic, but shredding it as she found the individual strands. The magic reeled from her aggressive onslaught and slowly she started to gain much needed ground.

 

Her anger and desperation fueled her magic, putting down any and all resistance the ward tried to put up. Where before it had acted like a hydra, rapidly regrowing the strands of individual spells she eliminated, now it simply melted away from the heat of her magic to wrap around the core knot in a last ditch effort to protect it.

 

In the back of her mind she registered the sound of someone yelling for her, but she could no longer hear them. All there was was the ward. _I almost have it, just a little more!_ With one last slash of her wand the knot fell apart and with a quiet click the door unlocked. Triumph filled her every pore as she gently touched the knob and felt no resistance, and she was sure she was grinning like a loon as she let the door swing open.

 

Before her were rows and rows of shelves covered to the brim with potions ingredients.

 

“Hermione!”

 

Ron’s desperate shout  forced her to turn around and she paled at what she saw.

 

The barriers were being broken down, and a multitude of arms, legs, heads, of the undead were sticking through. Half rotten teeth gnashed as the zombies wormed their way inside but most were quickly cut down by the boys. But where one fell, another rapidly took its place, and to her horror they were losing ground as the new corpses used the bodies of the old as meat shields to absorb the spellfire.

 

_It’s a horde, a full on horde!_

Unlike in major cities, Zombies simply didn’t form hordes in the country. There was not enough for such a large group of them to eat. The closest thing to a horde Hogwarts had seen was a group of twenty in the Forbidden Forest, and even then they were weak and sickly from a lack of flesh to sustain themselves.

 

Hogsmeade had been abandoned for over fifty years, none daring to come close to it, a virtual no-man's-land for both sides.

 

 _Why so many? Why now?_ Her heart started to pound and she felt her throat closing. _No._ She took a breath and forced herself to relax. They were just shambling corpses, there was no intelligence guiding them, all they had were numbers. _And we still have the portkeys._

 

“I have the door open!” She called.

 

Ron and Harry looked up at her, pausing in their furious casting. Ron gave a lopsided grin and Harry laughed in delighted relief.

 

“Brilliant Hermione, come on Ron we can keep the room sealed until we find the-” Harry froze and gaped stupidly at her.

 

“HERMIONE! HERMIONE, BEHIND YOU!” Ron was charging at her, pure, unadulterated panic across his every feature.

 

_What-?_

 

An arm wrapped around her, trapping her arms against her sides, and pulled her against a cold, boney chest. She didn’t have time to so much as jerk before something bit into the fabric on her shoulder and tore into it, leaving her flesh bare.  _No!_ She struggled, but the thing that was holding her was stronger than it seemed and kept her still.

 

Ron seemed to be running in slow motion towards her, Harry only a split second behind him. For a brief second hope flared in her chest, her boys were coming for her, when a low voice rumbled in her ear.

 

“How annoying.”

 

A foreign hand reached up to grab the wrist of her wand arm and to her horror she felt something call for her magic and push it through her arm and into her wand. Her eyes widened as she recognized the destructive power of the spell he was casting.

 

“HARRY! RON! GET OUT OF THE WAY!” At the same time that the stranger hissed. “ _Explodere_.”

 

Raw, destructive magic burst from her wand, the force so intense she was jerked backward into the solid hold of her captor.

 

The jet of angry red light streaked toward the approaching wizards with astonishing speed. Harry, with his seeker reflexes nimbly dodged out of the way. Ron wasn’t so lucky. Hermione screamed as the spell hit Ron in the legs and instantly shredded them. The spell didn’t stop there though, it careened into the barrier blocking the front door and blasted it apart.

 

The undead trying to squeeze through it shrieked and fell to tatters, but the swarm behind them simply picked where they left off. She almost vomited as the stronger, whole zombies started to linger at the remains of their brethren and snack.

 

“Vultures,” she heard the contemptuous, breathy voice in her ear, and she shuddered.

 

The snacking didn’t last long when the scent of fresh human blood reached them. Fortunately for Ron, Harry had leapt into action when they had been distracted and created a barrier spell around the two of them. In a minute though they would be in deep trouble.  She jerked in her captor’s arms in an attempt to free herself, but he held her firm, she tried to raise her wand, but she could not budge it in his iron grip.

 

“No rush love, we are just getting started.” The man dipped his head to bury his face in her revealed neck, she caught a glimpse of thin inky black hair as he inhaled deeply. “You smell like decadence.”

 

“Who are you? Let me go!”

 

“I have never had such chatty dinner before,” he said with a contemplative hum. To her shock he dragged something cold and slimy over her shoulder. “My, this will be a treat.”

 

Before she could process what he meant blunt teeth tore into the flesh of her shoulder, slicing clean through skin and muscle until they scraped bone. She didn’t think she had ever screamed so loudly in her life as the thing that held her growled and started to _chew_.

 

_What’s happening- what’s happening- what is he- WHAT IS HE?_

Zombies didn’t talk. Zombies were brainless, mindless shells. She was trapped by some mad cannibal!

 

The thing pulled her chewed flesh free of her shoulder and there was air touching parts of her that had never seen daylight. She howled in agony as he returned to her shoulder to lick at the river of blood pouring from her wound. _I am going to die of blood loss._ She realized as she started to tremble. Her heart felt like it was beating at a million miles an hour and her chest ached so bad it hurt to breathe.

 

She blearily looked up at her friends. Ron was unconscious at Harry’s feet, and so deathly still, panic welled up in her throat. Harry was desperately trying to  reinforce the barrier surrounding them as body after body threw themselves against it. He was fighting a losing battle. _He is going to try to save me._ She realized as his focus seemed to be torn from reinforcing his barrier to looking at her.

 

The blunt teeth found more flesh and set to chewing again, she could feel his pleasure filled groan vibrate against her collarbone. She screamed again, her throat aching from the effort.  _There is no saving me._ The realization struck her hard as she weakly tried to struggle again, but found she had no energy to do so. Her strength was pouring out and into him. _I still have my wand._ She thought and looked Harry in the eye. _Legilimens!_

Her magic seemed reluctant to obey, it wanted to stay inside her, protect what little life she had left. _If he wasn’t holding me I wouldn’t be able to stand._ Her breath was coming in short pants now and a quick glance down to her wand confirmed the flesh around her nails was turning blue. _I am going into shock, I don’t have much time._ At that thought the magic relaxed its hold on her and somehow she was bleeding even more.

 

She caught Harry’s eye again. _LEGILIMENS!_ Not even a second later she was diving through Harry’s memories. Hermione had never done this before, but her desperation was the perfect guide. She found the memory of them, not even ten minutes ago, and pulled it to the forefront of Harry’s mind.

 

**_“If they break through, I want you to grab Ron and use the emergency portkey. He isn’t going to leave willingly no matter what happens.”_ **

****

His eyes hardened and he shook his head.

 

Hermione furiously pulled the memory up once more, forcing him to watch it again.

 

She watched his jaw tremble as he looked from her to Ron to the horde surrounding his rapidly failing spell.

 

“I’m sorry!” He screamed, threw himself down on top of the red head, and together they vanished.

 

The spell shield fell and the beasts all fell in on one another, snarling and snapping at one another like rabid tasmanian devils. She smiled as her shivering increased, and her breath came in quick little gasps. She may be dying, but at least Harry and Ron were safe. Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to forget the teeth slicing the skin off of her neck, which seemed like such a distant thing now, o r the hot blood that had soaked her clothes through so that they were plastered against her like a second skin.

 

She pretended that it was summer time, that she had been dancing in the warm rain with Ron, that those were butterfly kisses he was planting along her collarbone. Hermione fell into the delusion as her mind became foggier and foggier, and suddenly his face was in front of her, his blue eyes sparkling with joy instead of the hardness that had been placed there much too young.

 

They spun and laughed and before she could blink his arms were around her waist, his face buried in her neck, and she let her head fall back onto his shoulder. She felt boneless, weightless, giddy. She giggled like a schoolgirl and Ron paused his ministrations on her neck.

 

“Don’t stop now,” she slurred. “Feels good.”

 

“You’re delusional.” He said, sounding surprised.

 

She giggled again and twisted her neck until her lips were pressed against his ear, which for some reason was tucked away behind lank black hair instead of his usual vibrant red.

 

“Bet you say that to all the girls.” The words came out more slurred and she tried to smack her lips to relieve the numbness.

 

He returned to her neck, but he seemed almost hesitant. She must have shattered his confidence, she realized with a weak pout. Well she knew just the thing to fix it.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, her lips brushing a cold, clammy ear. “I love you.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

But Hermione was beyond hearing, she was beyond much of anything, her clever mind had finally shut down, and she was gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was an odd thing to be both dead _and_ in pain.

Her shoulder felt like it was on fire and occasionally her magic would give an aggressive flare as if it were battling something. Sometimes she would feel hands on her, and they were not gentle. They pried open her jaw, forcing foul smelling liquids into her mouth and more then once she almost drowned. Then a rough voice would snarl at her, curse her, and let her choke until it was almost too late.

 Those aggressive hands were not born for kindness, she decided as they roughly knotted themselves into her hair and lifted her up and off the hard floor. This would happen twice a day. Each time she was lifted a loud snuffling sound would fill the air by her face and she would catch the rank smell of something rotting.

  _This is hell._

 She decided as she was lowered again. But just as she was settling back down to wait for the routine to start again, something warm and bloody was shoved past her teeth. This was the first time whatever it was has tried to feed her. Hermione had never liked rare meat, but she was, to her surprise, starving and that made it palatable enough in theory. _I can’t even open my eyes, how do they expect me to chew?_ The meat sat in her mouth and she mourned.

 After ten minutes of inactivity on her end rough hands jerked her mouth open and the meat was taken away, it was both a blessing and a curse. She didn’t expect the smell of rot to filter around her face again as lips, warm with what she assumed was blood, pressed into hers.

 For a moment she felt like a macabre sleeping beauty. The illusion was shattered as a warm thick wiggling thing forced smaller chunks of meat into her mouth. A wet hand went to her throat and rubbed with surprising gentleness and she found herself able to swallow.

 She tried not to question what she was eating as her caretaker fed her like a baby bird. _More like a baby wolf._ She thought as she felt blunt teeth occasionally nibble at any spare bit of her skin they could, quickly followed a low longing growl that had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

 Then the cruel hands and the fetid breath, just as quickly as they came, vanished for hours (she assumed) before returning, reeking of fresh blood.

 By day three of this treatment she was so desensitized to the smell and taste she no longer felt the urge to gag when whatever it was fed her, or came within ten feet of her. _Complete dependence does wonders for the appetite._ She thought with a surprising amount of sharpness.

 Her head felt clearer today than it had in weeks, and when she was fed that night she could swallow on her own. She heard a snuffling by her injured shoulder, which no longer drove her almost insane with pain (just slightly crazy) followed by a pleased hum. 

“I have saved your life.” A low voice said and her shoulder throbbed in response. “You should be able to get up soon.”

She rather hoped that ‘soon’ would come later, Hermione was terrified of the implications of that particular voice. _The zombie cannibal thing._ Its voice would be forever imprinted on her memory. _Why did it save me?_ She couldn’t think of an answer, and that scared her to her core. Whoever or whatever he was broke the rules of life as she knew it, and she found herself at a loss of what to do when she finally regained her strength.

 _I am in no condition to run, I don’t even know where I am._ If Hermione had to guess she would say she was in a forest. Under the heavy smells of blood and death was the lingering scent of pine needles. Sometimes a passing breeze would tickle at her senses, and once she was convinced she heard the sound of a thunderstorm in the distance.

 _But which forest is this? I could be in China for all I know!_ The creature’s ability to channel her magic hinted at an ability to apparate. If it were smart it would be miles away before Harry had time to muster a raiding party to track down her remains.

_If McGonagall  would let them organize one in the first place. She will have the school on lockdown until the horde moves on or the Aurors clear them out._

Thinking of what was going on back at Hogwarts broke her heart, but what truly hurt her was thinking of her parents’ faces when they received the black envelope announcing her death. _I am putting so many people through so much pain._ She grieved.

“Something is bothering you,” the man thing rumbled. “I can smell your distress.”

She couldn’t respond even if she wanted to and was content to lay there. The cruel hand returned to her curls and jerked her into an upright position. The burning of her scalp was only seconded by the burning of her shoulder and with a startled gasp, she opened her eyes.

Hermione let out a weak croak at the sight of the face in front of her. Pale as death, with lips so thin they might as well have not been there, his nose was gone, having long rotted off, and his gaunt bones stood predominantly against the chalk flesh. Inky black hair, thin and greasy, hung about his face in a dirty frame and looked like it could fall out at any moment. But his eyes were what captured her attention. They were slightly sunken into his skull, making him look more like a skeleton then a living human, and his irises- 

“Red!” She croaked and suffered a coughing fit.

A thin eyebrow slowly rose. “Sweet Salazar, you _are_ brain damaged after all. I knew I should have just eaten you.”

She mustered up the best glare she could. “Fine.” Was all she could manage with her bone dry throat.

“That remains to be seen.”

He abruptly let her go and she flopped back down to the ground with an uncomfortable thud. Her shoulder throbbed in protest at the poor treatment and she had to fight back tears. _Jackass._ She furiously thought, _Why take care of me only to hurt me again?_ A chill went down her spine. _Unless he is some kind of sadist._ Suddenly death looked like a very good alternative.

She tried to lift her head to see where he had gone but moving her head only hurt her shoulder more.

He returned a moment later with a small metal jug and she cringed away when he lowered himself down next to her. His large red eyes missed none of this.

“It’s only water, I would drink it myself but it wouldn’t exactly prove anything to you now would it?”

He had a point, the undead, being undead, could not be poisoned. In fact their flesh showed an amazing resistance to disease, injury, and illness of all sorts. The only real ways to hurt them were to either blast them until they couldn’t reform themselves, or use powerful healing spells beyond the scope of the average witch or wizard.

 _He hasn’t killed me yet._ She thought with a sigh and obligingly opened her mouth. He cocked his head to the side, much like a curious bird, and examined her mouth.

“What lovely teeth.”

“They- Dentists,” she coughed.

He frowned and considered the words. “Your parents?”

She gave a weak nod and gave the jug in his hands a pointed glance. The shrewd red eyes caught the look and slowly poured a small amount of water into her mouth.

It tasted like a swamp smelled, the liquid was nowhere near clear, and there was a slightly greasy tang on her tongue but it might as well have been ambrosa to her.. A whimper rose in the back of her throat and she cringed at the sound of the need there.

“Greedy mudblood.” He said flashing rows of strong white teeth. _How on earth has he managed to keep them nice?_ Then the slur caught up with her. While prejudice was still around, few people openly voiced those opinions if only to keep the peace in the increasingly small communities. Draco Malfoy had been the first and last person to ever use the slur round her, and after her very solid punch broke his nose he had avoided her since.

Before she could stop herself she was talking. “You seemed... to enjoy drinking my dirty blood… enough at the apothecary.”

Those red eyes flashed and suddenly she was sputtering as he dumped the rest of the jug of water over her head. The force of the water was enough to knock her back down. “Oh my, how clumsy of me.” He cooed over her coughing form and flexed his long spindly fingers. “Rotting hands you know.”

She shivered and sneered at him but couldn’t help flinching away when he reached down for her. His cruel smirk at her reaction made her tremble, but this time not with fear. She swore to herself then and there that she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear again.

As expected he grabbed her hair and yanked her back up. She only gave a slight wince and increased the ferocity of her glare. He gave the curious little head tilt once more.

“I do believe that I like you better when you are angry.”

Disgust twisted in her stomach. “I would rather you didn’t like me at all.” She snarled.

“You have a certain spiciness to you when you are angry,” he said, completely ignoring her comment. “I can almost taste it.” She had to fight back the shiver that threatened to overtake her. That was when he turned the full force of his gaze on her. “Do not forget, you are here and breathing on my charity. Cross me, and I _will_ eat you, do not doubt that. You have the most divine flesh I have ever tasted, and I would take great pleasure in sampling it again.”

Her shoulder burned at the declaration. “Why bother saving my life if I am so... _tasty._ ”

He looked at her intently. “You said something to me when you were dying. It intrigued me.”

She frowned. “What did I say?”

“I think I will keep that to myself for the moment.” She opened her mouth to protest but his grip tightened on her hair and she thought better of it. “Now, do you think you can manage to sit up on your own?”

Hermione might have nodded if his grip had been weaker, as it was she was all but trapped. “I think so.” With that he released her and despite a mild back spasm she managed to keep herself upright. He gave an approving nod and reached for her face. She leaned back warily and almost fell over again.

“What are you doing?”

He sighed in exasperation. “Do you want to stay wet?”

“If you give me my wand, I can take care of it.” She did not want him touching her again, and with the wand in her hand she would have a greater chance of escaping when she was strong enough.

“I know my brain has all but rotten away, but do you honestly think I am stupid enough to put a weapon in your hand?”

She said nothing and looked away from him. Hermione tried not to flinch at the feel of his clammy hand on her cheek. He called for her magic, and it reluctantly responded to his command. Not even a second later she was dry.

“How can you _do_ that.”

“I should think it obvious.” He leaned in as if about to reveal a great secret. “It’s magic, do try to keep that little tidbit under your hat.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored the reek of his breath.

“Yes I know it's magic -  MY magic - how can you access it?”

“Very carefully.”

Hermione was tempted to grind her teeth in frustration. “You are not going to give me a straight answer about anything are you?”

“It depends on the question.” With that he stood and she was taken aback at his height. He had to be one of the tallest men she had ever met.

“Who are you?”

He pondered that for a moment. “You may call me Voldemort.”

_Voldemort? What a bizarre name. A zombie named flight from death… its almost funny._

“How… nice.”

A muscle in his sunken cheek ticked. “Do you have a problem with my name?”

“Not at all, I just think it’s a bit of a funny name for a zombie to have.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And I suppose your name is so much better, mudblood?”

She scowled back at him. “It’s Hermione, Hermione Granger.”

“ _Hermione_ ? And you think _my_ name is ridiculous.”

Her cheeks started to heat and her glare deepened. “At least my name makes sense, what mother names their child _Voldemort_.”

“I named myself.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

Her throbbing shoulder stopped any retort she might have come up with and she tried not to crumple under the intense pain. _Why is it acting up now?_

“The pain potion is wearing off.” He reached into a pocket of his surprisingly well kept robes and pulled out a small vial of bright blue potion, one she easily recognized. She eagerly reached out for it with her good arm. For a brief second she was sure he was going to hand it to her, but the clear glass vial slipped through his fingers and fell to the ground. She could only stare dumbly at the shattered glass scattered across the hard packed earth.

“My, my, these clumsy zombie hands of mine are causing you so much trouble. Such a pity too, that is the last vial I had.” He turned his back on her. “I suppose I will have to go gather the ingredients to make a new batch, you will be able to handle the pain for a few hours, yes?”

Sawing her arm off would cause less pain then she felt at that moment, but she would never admit it to him. “Yes.”

“Lovely, I will be back eventually. Do try and get some rest while I am gone, you are looking a bit green.”

With that he slipped through the trees and she quickly lost sight of him. The second he was out of eye-shot she fell back onto the ground and her shoulder screamed from the action. She trembled and shook until the throbbing fell back into what she was considering normal parameters. _Sweet Merlin, what did he do to me?_

She looked down at her left arm and it seemed well enough, but she couldn’t manage to twist her head enough to actually examine her injured shoulder. She tried twitching her fingers on her left side and managed to get a weak response from a few of them, the others remained ominously still. Trying to move the arm was all but impossible, all she managed was to slightly bend her elbow. The whole appendage felt numb and useless. 

Hermione flexed her right arm and groaned at the slight pain it caused her left shoulder, but she was relieved that she could bend her elbow and wiggle her fingers well enough. She shut her eyes and her jaw trembled as she reached her good hand over her chest to gently touch her left shoulder. Her fingers found the edge of the injury, but it wasn’t raw and open like she expected. Instead something soft and spongy covered the injury and she puzzled over why it felt familiar. She twisted her neck as much as she was able without wanting to die and caught the sight of a silvery, furry material. 

 _Unicorn velvet!_ She thought, astonished. She had never seen so much in one place before or in such a whole state. _Where on earth did he get it?_  

It took the student raiding parties weeks to collect enough of the rare substance to be of any kind of use in potions or on undead bites. Unicorns only shed the substance in late fall to winter and it was all but impossible to see against the snow, but it was worth searching for. 

The velvet had amazing healing qualities and was the only way to prevent being turned into one of the walking dead after being bitten. Not only did the velvet draw out the poison, but it also regenerated bone and revitalized nerve growth when pressed directly to the skin. She traced a finger over the velvet again, feeling the edge of where it had fused into her skin. _So that is how he stopped the bleeding._ Short of a phoenix appearing to sob over her wound it was the only thing in the world that could have saved her life. A sudden stab of guilt made her grimace.  

While she would eventually heal, Ginny, Fred, and a multitude of others would soon be put to death before the infection took hold of them. If they weren't already dead now, which was most likely the case. Each and every one of them would have traded everything they had left for just a scrap of the stuff. _Why me?_ She toyed with the idea of what she might have said to get Voldemort to stop in the middle of feeding, but nothing seemed powerful enough. _At least it is a good distraction from the pain._ She thought with a wince as her shoulder grew increasingly painful. 

It felt like someone had doused the appendage in gasoline and set a match to it. 

 _Ignore it._ She furiously thought and forced herself to think of Voldemort. He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery. For one he seemed intelligent, which went against everything researchers had found about the creatures. He could speak, plan, and even _stop_ _feeding_ under his own power. Normal zombies could do none of these things, they were creatures of instinct and followed their base need to feed as often as it struck them. 

The most brain power they seemed to have was a rudimentary ability to track and coordinate kills. _What is so different about him?_ He went against nature itself. _He could be some sort of mutant. or have a natural resistance to the disease that allowed him to stay more human._ As it was, she would get no answers unless he allowed her to examine him, or at the very least gave her clear answers to her questions.  

 _There is no such thing as an unsolvable puzzle._ She thought as the burning in her shoulder grew to greater heights. _That fucking sadist._ Normally Hermione was not one for swearing, but it made her feel oddly better. _Pansyass motherfucker and his godamn name._  

As the pain increased her mental insults became less creative and more derogatory. Finally, she was simply thinking _fuck_ over and over again.  

 _Mark my words._ She thought when the pain had died down enough for her to think. _The moment he gets back, I am going to make the rest of his afterlife MISERABLE._

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End file.
